My Geek Baby

PSA: This post is rated G for “Gross.”

Every parent thinks it’s adorable when their kid had liquefied peas smeared on their chubby little face but to everyone else it looks like duck poop. Indie is sitting up and practicing with some rice cereal.

For those who would rather see a preview, a “before” shot, here she is contemplating rice cereal as dessert, with Honker and her squeaky toy that Jake thought was for a dog (we have two cats). If we switched over entirely, she’d starve, as very little gets swallowed.

“Yeah, sure I’ll try some”

“Oh that IS good.” She savors it like I savor a nice sip of Shiraz.

“There’s some on my chin. No, I got it, Mom. No need to scrape the spoon across my face again, thank you.”

But really she prefers finger foods.

Probably not a good idea to start baby on rice cereal the same week she has learned to blow raspberries. Ppppbbbllllssst.

I don’t have much to report but here’s Indie sporting her new hat.

While reading another blog, I came across this web site, Mommy Track’d, that encourages readers to write about cringe-inducing things that happen to working moms — noisy kids in the background while you’re on conference calls, a co-worker pointing out that you’re leaking breast milk through your blouse, being walked in on while pumping, etc. It’s pretty funny yet horrifying in some cases. Here I’ve been so worried that someone would walk into my office while I am pumping, and have an internal debate about whether to keep posting the “Conference Call” sign on my door or put a picture of a cow there like some moms do, and meanwhile, people are dealing with much more embarrassing circumstances. Of course, I’m still very new at this. There is time. Oh, no, you want an actual example from me? Ok, try breastfeeding in a hallway of a children’s hospital while trying to stay shielded from the kids milling about without smothering the baby.

This site also includes helpful tips; shop online for bulk items like diapers, spend as much time with non-judgmental friends, and lose the guilt. Also a helpful tip in the kitchen; a juice box works as a cocktail mixer when you’re out of tonic water.

There’s way more to check out - politics, job stuff, short cuts, and an online community. If you have time between working and “Mom-ing,” that is.

…10 minutes later

There’s an Anti-Princess Reading List! I love this. Even though I had a few Barbie dolls while growing up and I don’t think they warped my view of myself too much, I am already having conversations in my head in preparation for the “Why Can’t I Have a Bratz Doll?” talk Indira and I may have someday. Books like “Pirate Girl,” “The Daring Book for Girls,” and “Ramona the Brave” look like we can [try to] point her in a different direction.

It’s not important WHY I was Googling the spelling of Wookie from Star Wars but the “W” fell off somewhere between copy and paste and when I clicked “I’m feeling lucky” I was sent to the Ookie page. The word Ookie is Dutch for “little person” and in Europe Ookie dolls are evidentally are given to kiddos when Mom isn’t around. After Mom sleeps with the Ookie doll (presumably under her arm pit?) and it gets her scent, it’s given to baby for nights away at Grandmas, the first day at daycare or whenever Mom isn’t around. Anyone else find this overparenting doll a little creepy? Disclaimer: I find lots of dolls creepy.

I was walking out of The Italian Deli, one of two places in Northern Va where a Jersey girl can get a decent hoagie (called subs here) and was almost run down by a guy on a bike, with a babyseat attachment dragging from behind.

Me: “Oops sorry!”
Bike Guy: “No that’s my fault, I shouldn’t be riding on the sidewalk.” (we were in a strip mall)
Me (looking for the kid in his carrier and surprised that I see a 12-pack of beer instead): “Oh heh heh, I thought you had a little kid in there.”
Bike Guy: “Heavens, No.” as he bikes away with his frosty brew

New baby won, but not by the landslide expected!

Is it just me, or does the baby’s hair …

… resemble a certain winner of Project Runway?

Not one to bite off someone else’s style, Indira parts her rooster faux hawk on the other side.

Says Mr. Project Runway, “Fierceness!”

Readers have asked why we don’t post more pictures of Indira. We can’t give you too much baby all at once! We give you little crumbs so you’ll come back for more. But because you asked, here’s a belated Easter picture of Indie and her bunny.

Am I a bad mom? I had enjoyed an unusually warm March day by going for my six week check-up at the doctor’s office, (where I learned the C-section scar that looks like a smiley face on my bikini line will fade) enjoying lunch as a family at a restaurant and did some grocery shopping alone. Laundry (albeit, clean) is piled high in the bedroom and there are dishes in the sink. The living room begs to be vacuumed. But I couldn’t resist playing a quick game of Scrabulous (an online Scrabble knock off causing copyright controversy) while baby napped. She woke up and rather than quit the game, I played one-handed. I decided to make it a learning opportunity for Indira, spelling out the letters, E-A-T-I-N-G while she, yup, you guessed it, nursed! I wouldn’t say that I’m a spelling addict or anything, but I admit to having a Scrabble dictionary and memorizing a few two-letter words and words with Q that do not need U. Ok, I may have needed an intervention at one time, but with baby on board I can’t spend endless hours playing…

sample board

Update: Indira retaliated by taking bottle-only feedings until 1AM. We’re back on track now and I’ll stop multi-tasking.

I was half a second away from pouring my cold coffee into the trash can instead of the sink but I stopped myself. The pre- and post-natal fog of pregnancy is lifting, finally, but with the sleep deprivation, I still have my moments. My brain, which is a steel trap for useless factoids such as, “the largest soap bubble ever recorded was 105 feet,” my ability to spit out such facts has slowed down considerably, as has my ability to finish sentences, I just keep rambling, switching topics at random, as I am doing right now.

I attribute my recovery to my parents for bringing proper deli meats and hot meal ingredients from NJ to make real sandwiches and comfort foods such as kielbasa and chicken and dumplings.

But really, this blog is about baby Indira’s smarts, not my diminishing ability to communicate due to a lack of sleep. Without being able to yet speak in complete sentences she has already taught us many things:

Also, to accept offers from grandparents who can help burp baby. Here she is with Pop Pop.
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